Diary of Mary Winchester
by LegosInTheVents
Summary: Excerpts from Mary Winchester's diary -1973-2016. The thoughts and feelings of a teenage girl, a young mother, and a resurrected hunter on key life events during this period. (Note: Season 12 has not opened at the time of this publication.)


October 1, 1973

I think he's going to ask me to marry him! He keeps dropping these subtle hints, teasing me. We drove by a little house that was for sale today, and I couldn't help but daydream about what it might be like. To be Mrs. John Winchester, to have our own home and, maybe someday, a family. To live a normal, happy life. I desperately want that! I hope he asks soon. I know he's been trying to save up money, and mechanics don't make a lot. My parents are going to freak out. I don't care.

It's hard to believe that I used to think he was some arrogant ass, the last person I'd be thinking about spending the rest of my life with. It had to be fate – my car breaking down. I still remember that day – how boyish his smile suddenly seemed, how he tried to make small talk while inspecting the car, which came out adorably awkward, the stolen glances at me that he thought I didn't see. It was like a light switch flipped, and I was seeing him for the very first time. I'm so thankful that he worked up the nerve to ask me out on that first date. John is the sweetest, kindest person in the whole world. Most importantly, he's not a hunter.

I've questioned him a little – about stuff like ghosts and monsters. Not enough for him to wonder why I'm talking about such things or think I'm crazy, only enough to gauge what he thinks. Of course, like most normal people, he believes they aren't real, just make believe characters in horror films. I'm glad. Glad he doesn't know about all the things that can go bump in the night, that he still has some innocence despite serving in the war. The Marine in him would want to protect me if he knew, to make sure I was safe. But we _will_ be safe – far, far away from here, away from other hunters, not looking for monsters to kill, simply living our lives. The hell with trying to save everyone; there are plenty of hunters to continue the work. I just want out. I deserve happiness. John is all I need.

January 5, 1974

Finally, I have finished going through all of mom's and dad's things. I kept very little, only a few sentimental items. I was able to convince John to let me do most of the work by myself. I told him I needed the time alone, to make peace with the situation, to say goodbye. I didn't want him to see the hidden arsenal that had to be dealt with. Plenty of hunters came to pay their respects, and I was able to offload most of it. Now it's over. The house is sold, and I will never go back.

Even though my parents would not have approved of our marriage, I was still a little sad that they were not there on my wedding day. I hate that they raised me in the hunter life, but I know they loved me, and that was the only life they knew. They were good people, doing what they thought was right. Doing the best they could. They didn't deserve to die the way they did. I hope they are in a better place and that, if they can see me, they will someday understand my decisions - to leave hunting, to marry John. And to agree to the deal with the demon that killed them.

The demon disappeared, and there have been no signs of him since. Though I haven't exactly been looking for signs; my days of scouring the news for suspicious activity are over. He said he would come back in ten years, and all I had to do was let him in my home. Really, not accepting the deal was never an option for me. I couldn't lose John. He is my life. I don't know if the demon will actually come back, or what he will do if he does. But that is ten years away, and I will cross that bridge when I come to it.

Now, I can focus on our new life together – just me and the man I love. Little things like grocery shopping, ironing his shirts, tidying our house, give me so much pleasure. Because they are _normal_ things that _normal_ people do. I am finally free.

November 23, 1978

It's Thanksgiving Day. The proud look on John's face as he carved the turkey made it well worth the effort it took to cook a dinner that was way too much food for two. There are moments when I still miss my parents, especially on holidays. But I would not trade my life with John for anything under the sun. He's the best man I have ever known. There is not a doubt in my mind that he will be a wonderful father.

It's hard to believe that this will actually be the last Thanksgiving where it will be only the two of us. Only two months left before the arrival of our little miracle. I feel him moving inside me all of the time, and it gives me such joy. I don't actually know he's a "he", but I just have this strong hunch. We're working hard to get ready for him. John has been working two jobs to get us on better financial ground. I know he must be exhausted, but he still comes through the door with a smile and a kiss for me at the end of every day.

I have almost finished the nursery. I found the perfect crib and rocking chair for a great deal at a second hand store and, with a little elbow grease and paint, they are like new. I also bought a little porcelain figurine of an angel. I'm not sure what it was about it, but it just felt like something that belonged in our baby's nursery. I don't know if angels actually exist; no one I knew ever ran across one. But I would like to believe that they do. The thought of our child having his own personal angel watching over him is so very comforting.

January 24, 1979

He is the most beautiful thing I have ever laid eyes on. Our baby son, Dean, named after my mother at John's insistence. He is perfect – ten tiny fingers, ten tiny toes, so soft and warm and pink. I cannot wait to take him home. And John is the proudest father ever. I used to dream of having a life, a family, like this. I am blessed beyond words to be the mother of this precious soul. I will always protect him and be the very best mom I can. The nurses are telling me that I need to get some rest now. But I don't want to be separated from Dean. I am so in love with him.

January 24, 1982

Dean is three today. My baby has gotten so big. I can't believe how time flies. I baked him a special pie for his birthday; he likes that better than cake. But there were still candles to blow out and, of course, a present to open. Dean never ceases to amaze me. He is all rough-and-tumble boy, but he is also the most loving little guy. He can sense whenever I am feeling down or stressed, which quite frankly has occurred more frequently than I'd like lately, and he knows exactly when I need a big hug, or a song sung to me, or a dandelion picked from the yard (I suspect he's going to be quite the little Casanova). Watching him grow is such a delight. He really has a great personality; he can always make me laugh. And smart! I see him studying John, following him around – when he's home that is - trying to do things just like his daddy and so proud when he succeeds.

John has been working incredibly long hours at the garage. Times are tough and bills have to be paid, I get that. But our family time seems to be less and less of a priority. He comes home tired and irritable; he lets little things get to him that shouldn't and snaps at us. I have wondered if he is unhappy with me or if there is another woman, but the one time I hinted at that, he exploded and told me I was being ridiculous. I can't stand it when we fight. Whatever is going on with him, I hope my old John will return soon. I miss him.

March 1, 1982

Dean caught some kind of a nasty bug and has been extremely sick the last few days. I get so frustrated with myself when paranoid thoughts cross my mind. It's just the flu or something, damn it. Kids get sick, nothing suspicious or unnatural about that. His fever finally broke today, and he said he was hungry, which are good signs. I made him tomato and rice soup, which he likes, and he ate most of it – comfort food, always reminds me of my mom. I wonder if she ever got nervous when I fell ill? I hardly ever think about my old life anymore, except during times like this. I guess it's that instinct that all mothers have to protect their children, and I know more about all the things that are out there to hurt children than most mothers. I wish I didn't. Ignorance is bliss, as they say.

Things haven't improved between me and John, unfortunately, and with all the worry and tension, I sometimes feel like I'm nearing my breaking point. I know I need to be strong for Dean. John always said there was nothing more important than family. When is he going to remember that?

July 19, 1982

John has been back home for a while now, and things are better than they have been in some time. It got pretty rocky, and he moved out for a short time. Said he couldn't deal with all of the arguing anymore and needed to clear his head. I told him to just go; I was so angry. But I didn't believe he would actually leave us. I had no idea what to tell Dean. He loves his daddy, and I didn't want him to think anything was his fault. He seemed to be more concerned about me, though. My precious boy. I'll never forget how he looked at me with those big green eyes and told me not to cry, that it was all going to be okay.

As much as I hate that it had to go that far, maybe it was all for the best. I suppose it's true that you don't know what you have until it's gone. And John has always been one to try to do the right thing. It didn't take him long to come back, and he returned a much humbler man than when he left. Told me he wanted us to have a fresh start and would make it all up to me. I know it wasn't _all_ his fault. I mean, I have a bit of stubborn streak myself. Honestly though, I missed him terribly. Despite our issues, I love my husband and our little family. So, we both have been sincerely working to make our relationship more of a priority. And it's been really nice.

September 26, 1982

Well, it's official. I went to the doctor today to make sure the home test was right, and I am about eight weeks along. John is thrilled. We have not told Dean yet. I think we'll probably wait until it becomes more obvious. It will be great for him to have a little brother or sister. Someone to play with and share things with and be his best friend. I wish I'd had that growing up. Imagining my kids being close makes me feel all warm inside.

And some more good news – when John told Mike Guenther about the new baby, Mike offered him partial ownership in his garage. They are ironing out all of the details, but I'm so proud of John. All these years, he has worked hard to support us. He deserves this.

May 2, 1983

It's a boy…again! We have named him after my father, Samuel – "Sam" for short. He is slightly bigger than Dean was when he was born, and I can tell already that his temperament is a little different. He has a head full of hair, and we're not quite sure what color his eyes are going to turn out to be. But, oh, how sweet he is! I had secretly worried whether I could love another child as much as I love Dean, but now I understand. There is plenty of love inside me for both of them.

John brought Dean to the hospital to let him see Sam. His reaction was just priceless – a mix of awe, excitement, and pride. John told him that being a big brother was a big responsibility and that we would need his help taking care of Sammy. He just smiled and nodded in agreement.

I have never felt happier. I don't know how to explain it, but it just feels like our family is "complete" now.

November 1, 1983

John has been taking Dean down to the garage with him some lately, which Dean absolutely loves, and it gives me some alone time with Sammy. He tells Dean all these things about cars, which he is way too young to understand, but he likes having his dad's attention. Dean has a bunch of matchbox cars that he plays with all the time, and I hear him pretending like he's fixing them. And sometimes he tries to show them to baby Sam and teach him about them. It's adorable. We even found a toy Impala that looks like John's, and that is Dean's very favorite of course. John told him that maybe someday the Impala would be his – you should have seen the look on his face! I couldn't help but laugh. It's hard to imagine the day when my little boy will be old enough to drive a car. I'm not sure that Impala will make it that long, although John does take awfully good care of it, almost like it's one of the family!

Sammy will be 6 months old tomorrow. He is growing like a weed. Rolling around, babbling, full of smiles. He has the cutest dimples. His first "word" was "da", which gave John a big head. I didn't want to burst his bubble and tell him that I think Sam is actually trying to say "Dean". They can keep each other occupied for hours – Dean talking to Sam, making funny faces and noises for him, showing him toys, and Sam just mesmerized, soaking it all in, peels of joyous baby laughter at his big brother. It makes my heart so full to see them together.

I always heard people talk about unconditional and sacrificial love, and I thought I knew what those were. But now I realize that I didn't understand, couldn't have understood, until I became a mother. I think maybe bringing these two boys into the world might actually be my whole purpose in life.

October 13, 2016

Damn it! I'm trying so hard to wrap my head around everything, but it's just spinning. Almost thirty-three years lost. And it was all a lie. The whole time that I thought I had beat the system, that I had really left the life behind me, that I could have a "happily ever after" – it was never going to happen. They were always there, lurking, watching, waiting. So, I'm just supposed to accept this "destiny" crap? Accept that the only reason I fell in love with John is because some cupid shot us up, that John was meant to be a "man of letters"- whatever that is, that my family died so the yellow eyed demon could get to my son, that my babies were born to be pawns in some supernatural pissing match, that they've both literally been to hell and back, that most of the angels watching over them were dicks, that they were chosen to carry this enormous burden of being the firewall between light and darkness? How can I accept all of that? How can I live with that?

Could I have changed it? Could I have done something differently? I have to believe I had choices. Maybe I made some wrong ones. I never intended for my boys to suffer from them. I never intended that they would grow up without their mother to protect them. And I sure as hell never intended that they would become hunters. I look in Dean's eyes, and I see the look that I know all too well. I see a man who's seen too much, who knows what's in the shadows, who's experienced more pain than any person should, and who feels the weight of the world on his shoulders.

But I also see a hero. A man who loves humanity, who will sacrifice for the greater good without thinking twice, who is determined to do the right thing. I see a man who won't give up and won't resign himself to accept his "destiny". A man who is ready to kick fate in the ass or die trying. And a man that holds family dearer than anything else. He's got his daddy's looks, his perseverance, and even his car. But he is a better man than John was. He is everything I never wanted my son to be and at the same time more than I ever dreamed he could be.

It's just crazy. And this world is crazy. I don't know how to navigate it…yet. But here's what I do know. My sons have been through hell, and some of that is on me. If the hunter life is something I can't escape, well then, embrace it I will. My little Sammy is out there somewhere, and he is in trouble. I wasn't there for him when he was growing up, but I'm here now. My boys need my help, and there isn't time to sit around trying to make sense out of it all.

We've got work to do.


End file.
